


nobody knows the me that you do

by quiescents



Series: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Hallucinations, M/M, Malfoy Manor, Mental Health Issues, POV Multiple, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiescents/pseuds/quiescents
Summary: All Draco wants is for all of it to go away: the Dark Mark, Azkaban, being trapped in the Manor with memories of the Dark Lord. Harry might just be his only solace.





	nobody knows the me that you do

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hogwarts  
> Charms: Write about someone wishing something or someone away  
> Fanfiction Resolutions: Write a fic set in Trio era, write something hurt/comfort  
> 365 Prompts: First line - It wasn’t supposed to be like this  
> Insane House Challenge: Character - Draco Malfoy  
> Bath Bomb Appreciation: Heart 2 Heart - Write about two characters having a heart-to-heart  
> Sticker Challenge: Malfoy Manor - Write about a pureblood  
> OTP Challenge: Write about your OTP’s first kiss  
> Book Club: Caine Soren - (character) Draco Malfoy, (word) insane, (dialogue) “Deep down she’s a good person. Deep down I’m not.”  
> Dueling Club: Larch wand - (word) force, (item) knife, (dialogue) “You came back!”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Draco wasn’t sure of much these days, but he was sure of that. As a child, his father had regaled him with stories of how wonderful the Malfoy family was, how they were meant to be at the very top. Malfoys always picked the winning side. His father had promised, and Draco had believed him until it was too late to back out. 

“Pommey is to be bringing Master Draco his tea now.”

Draco startled slightly, glancing over at the elderly house elf in the library doorway. She gave him a judgmental look over the tea tray she was carrying, heading over to set it on the coffee table.

“Right, thank you, Pommey,” he muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. How long had he been sitting in here anyway? It shouldn’t be time for tea yet.

“Master Draco should be taking his feet off the sofa instead of making more work for Pommey by getting it dirty,” Pommey added, fixing him a cup. Draco glared right back, lip curling. The house elves never would have dared to criticize him before. But, not wanting to stoop as low as arguing with her about it, he kicked off his shoes before putting his feet back up.

He obediently took his cup, sipping the tea. It was perfect, again. Pommey had learned his preferences well over the past month. She used to be assigned to cleaning, not cooking. Now, though, with all their other house elves killed or confiscated, Pommey was their only help. When Draco looked up from his tea, she was still standing there, waiting for something.

“Very good,” he said, forcing a smile. “Listen, Pommey...maybe you could work on the sunroom a bit this evening. I think it would make Mother happy to be able to enjoy it again.”

“Yes, Master Draco.” With a soft crack, the house elf disappeared, leaving Draco alone in the library again. Good, he thought. Maybe Harry would visit, now that he didn’t have to worry about being seen. Everything else around the Manor was such a bother...Draco couldn’t blame him for being a little reluctant. He wished he could get away from all of it too.

He continued sipping his tea, gazing out the smudged window. One of his father’s peacocks strutted past, clearly unaware of how good it had things. If it wanted to, it could probably find a gap in the fence surrounding the Manor and walk right out. Draco, on the other hand, was stuck inside, left wishing for as much freedom as a poncey, oversized bird.

Maybe if he wanted it badly enough, the upcoming trial would go away, and all the damage to his family’s home would disappear. He’d be able to make his mother smile again, and get rid of the tattoo on his arm. They could forget about all of this.

Draco curled up a bit more, lying on the couch. The warm, stale library air was starting to make him a bit sleepy. Maybe he should open a window, get some fresh air. 

“Hey, Draco.” Harry emerged from one of the shadowed aisles, a soft, easy smile on his face. “Sorry, I know I’m a little late.”

Draco tried to hide his own smile, sitting up and nodding. 

“I suppose I’ll let it slide this time, Potter. Don’t let it happen again.” He had to squint a little to see Harry, right in the sun’s path, but Draco couldn’t be bothered to get up and close the curtains. 

Harry laughed, idly inspecting some of the titles on the nearest shelf. It was rather cute when he avoided eye contact, almost like he was shy, but Draco liked seeing that beautiful green color.

“Don’t worry, I’m never too busy for you,” he assured. “I’m right here whenever you need me.”

Draco frowned, fingertip tracing patterns in the dust on the coffee table. It was easier to look at that than at Harry.

“I don’t need you. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re just...a bit of entertainment. I get on fine on my own.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed with a shrug. Draco could just barely hear the sound of footsteps against carpet. Harry was closer now, but he didn’t dare look. Not when he was feeling so vulnerable. He hated Harry seeing him so weak.

“Besides, if you were really interested in helping me, you’d give me back my wand, or get me out of here. You promised you’d help me.” Draco bit his lip, glaring down at the table harder.

“I’m trying to figure out how to get the Mark off. I told you that.” Draco saw movement out of the corner of his eye, Harry pointing to another table, with a small stack of books on it. “I’ve been researching, I just haven’t found anything yet.”

“I looked through those books, not you,” Draco argued. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.” 

Harry scowled, and the expression was all kinds of wrong on his face, when Draco finally looked. His Harry wasn’t supposed to be mad at him. Not anymore.

“I’m doing my best, Malfoy,” he growled. “I got you through the war, didn’t I? Why can’t you just be grateful for once?”

“I’m stuck in here, where He _lived_ for _months_. I don’t have my wand. The Ministry’s already taken most of our house elves, and they’ll be coming for our money next. My father’s already in Azkaban, and Mother and I will probably be joining him, when they finally get around to holding our trials. What exactly should I be grateful for?”

“I kept you _alive_!” Harry turned away, and Draco started to reach out for him, then stopped himself. 

“You didn’t take me with you!” Draco had never dared to voice that before, but it slipped out before he’d stopped himself. Despite coming just for him so many times, before and after, Harry didn’t let Draco escape with them over Easter. He’d left him here with Voldemort, to deal with the force of his rage.

“Why would I? You’re worthless.” Draco started to reach for his wand, and in the time it took for him to remember he didn’t have it, Harry vanished. Draco never had figured out how he did that with the anti-Apparition wards.

Harry left no sign that he’d ever been there in the first place. He never did.

“You’re right,” Draco said to the empty room. “You’re right, okay? I’m worthless and I deserve everything I’m getting. But I can’t take this..being trapped here...please, just...make the trial and Azkaban and everything go away. I need you.”

When no answer came, he turned and left the library, going to his bedroom. He was too tired to research more about the Mark today.

xxxxx

"Pommey will be leading Mr. Potter to Master Draco's room," the elderly house elf announced, beckoning for Harry to follow.

He could hardly believe he was actually doing this; setting foot in Malfoy Manor again after what had happened just a few short months ago. It felt like he didn't have a choice, though. Not when everyone was claiming that Draco had completely gone off the deep end. Not to mention, Harry didn't hate him. In fact, he almost wanted to get to know him a bit more, after everything that had happened. At the very least, he didn't think Draco deserved to rot in Azkaban with his father.

“You came back!” Draco leapt up from where he was sitting on his bed, face lighting up. That hadn't been what he was expecting at all. Harry froze just inside the doorway, wondering if perhaps this was some sort of Polyjuiced intruder.

Harry’s brow furrowed, and he ran a hand through his hair, staring at Draco intently.

“Um...yes? I’m not quite sure what you mean by that, but I thought I should come see you. To help. I’ve, ah, heard you’re not doing so well?” Harry worded everything like a question, hoping to elicit some sort of response that made sense. Maybe the gossip wasn't too far off after all.

Draco sat back down, face pink. He looked rather cute like that, all rumpled, with hair falling in front of his eyes. Harry had only seen it un-styled a handful of times before.

“What do you mean, you’ve heard I’m not doing so well? Who have you been talking to about me? And you’ve been seeing me often enough yourself that you should _know_ how I’m doing.”

“Malfoy, what are you talking about? We haven’t seen each other since the battle.” Harry didn't bother to answer his other questions, choosing to focus on the more important bit. He needed to get Draco to talk so he could figure out what was going on.

“You were just here two days ago.” Draco was getting visibly frustrated now, scowling at him. What on Earth was he talking about? All Harry had seen of him in the past month or so was photos in newspaper articles.

“No, I wasn’t.” Slowly, Harry sat down on the bed beside him, not sure if it was really appropriate to do. Draco didn't hit him or curse at him though, so it seemed to be alright.

“Stop looking at me like I’m insane,” Draco said. “If you’re still angry with me, just say so.”

“I’m not angry with you...” Harry paused just a moment longer before adding, “Draco.” Yes, that seemed to help. Draco relaxed minutely, edging closer to him. They’d never really been this close to each other before, except when fighting. “How often have we been seeing each other?”

“More over time, I suppose. Almost every day now. Started a few months ago, maybe around Christmas? Why are you asking?” Draco frowned, fussing with the edge of his sleeve to avoid meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Draco...I haven’t been coming here,” Harry said, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible. “I was here over Easter, that day the snatchers got us, and then we saw each other again at the battle, but that’s been all this year. Do you think…maybe you imagined some things, being trapped here for so long? It's normal to want comfort when you're under that kind of stress.”

“No...no, you’ve been visiting me. We’ve talked.”

“I promise you I haven’t.” Harry had been about to say more, but he leaned back a bit, hand landing on something hard underneath the covers. Making a face, he pulled them back to investigate before Draco could stop him. “...What’s a knife doing in your bed?” He held it up by the handle, looking at Draco disapprovingly.

“It’s a ritual knife, Potter, I thought even you would know that. And obviously it’s not _supposed_ to be in my bed, but I had no time to put it away, since you decided to tromp in unannounced.”

“Okay, and what are you planning on doing with a ritual knife?”

Draco pursed his lips, looking away. Harry just looked at him pointedly, waiting for an answer. If he was planning on harming himself, this was even more serious than he thought.

“Trying to remove the Mark,” he said simply.

“Trying to...You can’t just carve up your arm! All you’d be doing is hurting yourself.” Sighing, Harry turned to set the knife aside on the bedside table. “You can’t do that,” he said again firmly. “Just...what can I do to help you?”

Had Draco really imagined all sorts of visits and conversations with him? Did that sort of thing really happen? Dreaming up people who weren’t there, over and over again, without even realizing it?

“I just want it all to go away,” Draco said softly, wincing when his voice cracked. “I want to start over, without the Mark or the punishments or the waiting for a trial. And I want things to be easier on my mother. She doesn’t deserve this. She never did anything but protect me. Deep down she’s a good person. Deep down I’m not. I wanted this, once,” he said, gesturing to his arm. “Before I really understood what it entailed. So if you don’t want to help me, help her.” Draco bit his lip hard, and Harry tried to discreetly look around for tissues, worried that he might start crying. He was sure that Draco wouldn't speak to him so openly if he didn't really think they were much closer than they actually were. That settled it. He needed to do anything and everything to help him, since clearly nobody else would.

“I do want to help you,” Harry assured. “And I’ll help your mother too. It’s the least I can do, after she saved my life.”

Draco nodded slowly, looking like he was waiting for Harry to elaborate.

“I don’t know how to remove the Mark, if it’s even possible. But I’m planning on testifying at both your trials, and I’ve gotten the Ministry to agree to give your mother a bit more freedom in the meantime. You, they were more reluctant about, but...they trust me to supervise you.” His nose scrunched up a little at that, half expecting Draco to protest. “So you don’t have to be stuck in here, as long as you’re with me. It’s up to you, but you can stay with me for awhile if you’d like. I think it would help you to be somewhere without so many bad memories.”

“I suppose I can do you the favor of giving you company,” Draco replied, sneering at him. There was no venom in it, unlike when they were in school. It looked almost fond, and it was more obvious than ever how exhausted Draco was, like he'd do anything to just curl up in Harry's arms.

Harry didn’t point out how obvious it was that he was faking his aloofness. Better to let him keep as much dignity as he could.

“Great,” he said brightly, grinning and meaning it. Grimmauld Place was lonely by himself anyway. A roommate would liven things up, and Draco was far more agreeable than he used to be, even if the changes were rather unsettling.

“How much do you really think you’ll be able to do for me?” It made sense for him to be doubtful. Draco was a Death Eater. He’d committed plenty of undeniable crimes. There were limits even to Harry's influence, though he sincerely hoped he'd have enough for this.

“I’m not sure,” Harry admitted. “But I’ve been talking with Hermione, and we think we can keep you out of Azkaban. Maybe community service, probation...therapy.”

Wizards didn't bother with therapy, or any other treatment of mental illness, and Draco's confused look was proof enough of that. Harry would have fun introducing him to other, more mundane Muggle things, like television and shopping malls. Therapy could be explained another time. Ideally by Hermione. She was far better at that sort of thing than he was.

“No Azkaban?”

“No Azkaban," Harry confirmed, nodding.

“Why did you even come here?” Draco asked.

“Well, like I said, I’d heard the rumors. But on top of that, I guess I just felt like I needed to. Intuition or something.”

Draco's lips tugged into an uncharacteristically genuine smile. All of a sudden, the final pieces clicked into place. Draco didn't just trust him to help. He'd actually fallen for the version of him that he'd made up. Harry didn't object to Draco fancying him, really. He even thought he might return some of those feelings. They'd have to talk about it at some point, and get to know each other properly before jumping into anything serious, but right now, Harry didn't have the heart to do anything that might be seen as rejection.

“Maybe you felt me wishing for you to get rid of everything for me.”

“Maybe,” Harry agreed, hand brushing against Draco’s tentatively. If he took it, that would prove his theory right. “I guess wishes really do come true.” Did they? He'd felt a strange connection, almost as if some external force was pulling him to visit Malfoy Manor that day. Had Draco's wishes to escape captivity been so strong that he actually felt them? No, Harry thought, shaking his head slightly. It had to be a coincidence, right?

Resolutely looking away, Draco grasped Harry’s hand, squeezing tight. Harry squeezed back. Draco's hand was soft, and fit perfectly in his own.

“I’m not going to Azkaban?”

“You’re not going to Azkaban.”

Draco nodded slowly, staring down at their joined hands. He was still acting a bit lethargic, like interacting with a real person was tiring, not to mention the shock of finding out that the Harry he thought he knew hadn't been real at all.

“And you’re really here?” he asked, gray eyes shining with uncertainty.

“I’m really here.”

“You’d better not be planning on telling your idiotic friends about all of this, Potter. I’m not crazy.”

“I know you’re not,” Harry said. “They’ll know that you’re living with me for awhile, and that I’m helping you with getting things sorted out, but not the rest.” He might have to tell Hermione, since he wasn't sure he could handle this on his own, but for now, he'd keep Draco's secret from getting around any more than it already had.

“I shouldn’t trust you so much,” Draco whispered. “It seems too good to be true.” The raw hope and fear in his voice made Harry's heart ache. He had to do something more to make him happy, and prove that he was serious about helping.

“I’ve been thinking about things, and, well, we’ll work on it, okay?” Harry said with a smile. “And, uh, I’m not supposed to give you this, but...” Without a word, he slipped Draco’s wand into his hand.

Draco just stared at it for a moment, lips parted in shock, and then leaned in, connecting their lips in a grateful kiss. Harry blinked, surprised, but returned it, surprised by how natural it felt. Draco tasted like tea and mint, and Harry felt like he could definitely get used to that.

“Thank you, Harry.”

"Of course." Maybe this was an opportunity for them both to change. Second chances like this didn't come along every day.


End file.
